Classic Films in Focus: THE DIVORCE OF LADY X (1938)

While not on par with the greatest of the screwball comedies, The Divorce of Lady X (1938) delivers a thoroughly engaging British take on the genre with notable performances from two iconic stars. Laurence Olivier and Merle Oberon lead a fairly small cast in this second adaptation of Gilbert Wakefield's play, Counsel's Opinion, the first having appeared under that title in 1933. Alexander Korda produced both versions and even brings back Binnie Barnes, who previously had Oberon's role, as one of the supporting characters, while Tim Whelan provides direction. Gorgeous Technicolor brightens the scenes, especially a fancy dress ball at the beginning of the picture, and the absurd comedy of the mistaken identity plot keeps the mood lively and light, even though Olivier's dialogue occasionally veers into sexist rants about the nature of womankind. Fans of the two stars and screwball comedy in general will appreciate The Divorce of Lady X for its madcap romance and the chance to see Olivier and Oberon paired in a lighter setting than the more famous Wuthering Heights (1939), which would be the last time the two shared the screen.

Olivier plays barrister Everard Logan, who specializes in divorce cases and has returned to London for an important trial when a heavy fog brings the entire city to a standstill for the night. He nabs the last room at a nearby hotel just before a mob of trapped party guests descends on the front desk demanding places to sleep. Unwilling to share his suite with a group of ladies, Everard nonetheless finds himself giving up his bed and his pajamas to the relentlessly charming Leslie (Merle Oberon), who tells him that she's a married woman and refuses to disclose her last name for the sake of discretion. When an incensed Lord Mere (Ralph Richardson) later appears in Everard's office to demand a divorce from his wife, the circumstance lead Everard to assume that Leslie is actually Lady Mere, making him the co-respondent in the impending trial.

Despite accounts of their dislike for one another, Olivier and Oberon generate plenty of chemistry onscreen, perhaps because love and loathing both radiate palpable energy that can be hard for the viewer to differentiate. Oberon's feline smile and wide eyes suit the scheming Leslie perfectly; like most screwball heroines, she takes control of the romance from the start and then upends every aspect of the hero's life. We learn quite early on that Leslie is not Lady Mere and is, in fact, a single young lady and perfectly acceptable love interest, but the ironic comedy of watching Everard suffer under his assumptions delights Leslie and the audience. Our introduction to the barrister sets him up as a selfish cad with a history of questionable liaisons, so we don't judge Leslie too harshly for manipulating him and then forcing him to prove his devotion repeatedly. Everard needs to be taught a few lessons, and Leslie, the granddaughter of a powerful judge, is just the girl to teach them. It's also great fun to watch Olivier, so lionized now for his serious Shakespearean roles, fumble about in pajamas or try to hide his face from the notice of Lady Mere's maid. His physical comedy here never rivals that of Cary Grant or Henry Fonda in their best screwball parts, but Everard has a lot in common with David Huxley and "Hopsy" Pike as he careens between pleasure and panic.

The reveal scene at the end falls a bit flat, and the movie feels like it could do more with its supporting characters, especially Binnie Barnes as the real Lady Mere and Morton Selton as Lord Steele, but the biggest hiccups are the moments of sexist nonsense. Everard has one scene where he humiliates a woman in court solely because of his frustration with Leslie; he rants about the deceptive, irrational nature of women and how they don't deserve independence and respect. Later, when he's happy, he gives the reverse of the same speech, now lauding women as helpmates and loving companions to men but still not recognizing them as human equals in any capacity. Everard wants to read Leslie - and all women - as either evil temptresses or angels in the house, but Leslie's character throughout the movie defies both categories. She's a bit of each, depending on the moment, but mostly she's a very intelligent, ambitious young woman who has no chance of her own career but sees Everard as husband material with potential for greatness. In a modern setting Leslie could be ambitious for herself, and she'd certainly make a cunning lawyer or politician with her ability to talk a complete stranger out of his room, his bed, and his pajamas for the night. It's grating to think that Everard can understand so little about her even after their misadventures end in mutual affection.

Olivier's big pictures following The Divorce of Lady X include Rebecca (1940), Pride and Prejudice (1940), and That Hamilton Woman (1941), but if you like him as a romantic comedy lead try The Prince and the Showgirl (1957), which pairs him with Marilyn Monroe. Merle Oberon also stars in The Scarlet Pimpernel (1934), The Cowboy and the Lady (1938), and That Uncertain Feeling (1941). Oberon and Binnie Barnes both get beheaded as wives in The Private Life of Henry VIII (1933), which came out the same year that Barnes played Leslie in Counsel's Opinion. Although he's hamming it up here as the foolish Lord Mere, Sir Ralph Richardson is remembered as a great Shakespearean stage actor whose extensive film credits include Anna Karenina (1948), The Heiress (1949), and Doctor Zhivago (1965).

Classic Films in Focus: THE HEIRESS (1949)

Olivia de Havilland won her second Oscar for Best Actress for The Heiress (1949), William Wyler's dramatic adaptation of the Henry James novel, Washington Square. The awkward, naive protagonist de Havilland plays is a far cry from the unshakably sweet Melanie Wilkes, the role for which de Havilland is best known, but Catherine Sloper is a far more complicated and dynamic character, which gives de Havilland the opportunity to prove that she is every bit as talented an actress as any leading lady of her era. Romantics and sentimental types beware: The Heiress offers no salve for wounded hearts except the cold, cruel comfort of revenge, which de Havilland's heroine metes out to the men in her life with all the fury of a woman scorned. Despite its decidedly cynical perspective on love, The Heiress is a winner for classic film fans, with excellent performances from Ralph Richardson, Miriam Hopkins, and Montgomery Clift, as well as Oscar-winning work from Edith Head and Aaron Copland.

The heiress of the title is de Havilland's character, Catherine, a shy, simple girl who falls woefully short of her father's expectations in a daughter. Dr. Sloper (Ralph Richardson) constantly compares Catherine to his beautiful, accomplished wife, who died in childbirth; to Catherine he is cool and condescending, but to others he more openly complains of her faults and his own disappointment. When the penniless but handsome Morris Townsend (Montgomery Clift) courts the lovestruck Catherine, Dr. Sloper assumes that he only wants her money and tries to break the match, but his heartless tactics have unintended consequences. His widowed sister, Lavinia (Miriam Hopkins), encourages the young couple, but even she underestimates the extent of Catherine's resentment against those who have conspired to break her heart.

Catherine's climactic disillusionment gives de Havilland very different emotional states to play in the first and second halves of the film. When we first meet Catherine, she is not exactly plain, for de Havilland's natural beauty shines through no matter what, but she is very shy and introverted, never sure what to do with her hands or where to look during a conversation. She always leans away from the person who addresses her, shrinking with self-consciousness, but she can be clever when she speaks to her aunt, and if she is awkward it is partly because she possesses keen feelings that are easily overwhelmed. Catherine feels happiest when left alone with her embroidery, but as a young woman of the nineteenth century she is expected to be decorative, graceful, and, above all, marriageable. Dr. Sloper and Morris both make assumptions about her because of her perceived vulnerability, but cold iron waits beneath the softness that they manage to tear away. The moment of transformation is marked; everything about Catherine changes forever, even her voice, which drops from a tremulous whisper to a clear, hard snarl. In the later Catherine de Havilland gives us a fierce, sharp-edged fury of great beauty and burning eyes, feeding a bonfire of resentment beneath a calm exterior. She is absolutely terrifying, especially in the final scenes, when Morris returns after many years of separation.

The supporting players lend their characters subtlety and nuance that keep us from easily guessing their motives or their true natures. Miriam Hopkins is the most transparent and sympathetic as Aunt Lavinia, who enjoys life and the prospect of young love enough to hope for the best for Catherine, even if she also suspects that Morris is chiefly attracted to the girl's fortune. Ralph Richardson's Dr. Sloper, a bit devilish in his neat goatee, might actually love his daughter in some capacity but doesn't realize how deeply he wounds her until he has gone too far. He is certainly a selfish, insensitive father, who describes his only child as "an entirely mediocre and defenseless creature without a shred of poise." He never realizes how important Catherine's love for him is until he loses it forever. Montgomery Clift gives the most inscrutable performance as Morris; we never know how he really feels about Catherine. He, too, might love her, as he perpetually claims, even if he sees her wealth as necessary for his own comfort. His face never betrays him, but he does demonstrate quite a taste for the finer things in life, as well as a complete inability to work for them himself. Because the audience never knows for sure, we never know if Catherine's wrath is warranted. Is the ending terrible justice, or is it only tragedy?

The Heiress earned eight Oscar nominations in all, including a nod for Best Picture, with four wins. For de Havilland's other Oscar-nominated performances, see Gone with the Wind (1939), Hold Back the Dawn (1941), To Each His Own (1946), and The Snake Pit (1948). William Wyler also directed Mrs. Miniver (1942), The Best Years of Our Lives (1946), and Ben-Hur (1959). See more of the handsome, tragic Montgomery Clift in Red River (1948), A Place in the Sun (1951), and From Here to Eternity (1953). You'll find Ralph Richardson in The Four Feathers (1939), Anna Karenina (1948), and Richard III (1955). Miriam Hopkins takes leading roles in earlier films like The Story of Temple Drake (1933), Becky Sharp (1935), and The Old Maid (1939). For the sake of comparison, you might try the 1997 version of Washington Square, which stars Jennifer Jason Leigh as Catherine and Albert Finney as her father, but the most famous adaptation of a Henry James story is certainly the 1961 horror classic, The Innocents.